


Brighten

by RhetoricFemme



Series: Team [2]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Ouran High School Host Club - Freeform, Young Love, kaoru hitachiin - Freeform, kyokao, kyoya ootori - Freeform, kyoya x kaoru, makin' out on chaise lounge, ohshc, shy boys and their slightly annoyed but understanding boyfriends, tamaki suoh - Freeform, teamverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricFemme/pseuds/RhetoricFemme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaoru revels in Kyoya's affections on a quiet evening, only to find out he's not as self-assured as he believes an Hitachiin is meant to be. Set in the early days of the completed fic, Team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brighten

**Author's Note:**

> It's been such a long time, but here's a little thing I wrote recently. I hope you enjoy! <3

Even during his most sentimental of fantasies, he never would have figured Kyoya Ootori for soft lips or a gentle hand.  But then, that’s precisely what Kaoru gets when the older boy pulls back the collar of his shirt to trace an exposed clavicle, to learn the taste of Kaoru’s pulse at its least steady.

Kyoya tugs a textbook away from his boyfriend’s lap, slowly replacing the book with his own weight, and it isn’t long before Kaoru pulls him closer, anxious fists wrapped around a still crisp Ouran blazer. It’s a quiet, discreet gesture when Kyoya takes Kaoru’s hands away, entwining fingers as delicate as bird’s bones with his own.

It’s not that he’s not into it. Far from it.

They’re chancing enough as it is, however. Unclasped buttons can be explained away far easier than an Ootori’s curiously debauched uniform, and so, Kaoru sustains the temporary loss of his hands. It’s a small price to pay as Kyoya’s knees press into either side of his hips, the warm frames of his glasses brushing Kaoru’s face as stilted breath lilts across his ear.

“So mag ich dich, Kaoru.” If the still fresh experience of another body above him weren’t enough, Kyoya using his language proficiency to talk dirty is nothing short of exhilarating. “Fühlt sich gut an, nicht wahr?”

And then, there’s the issue of occupying Tamaki’s “King Only” chaise to study their now shared language. Oh, but if the Prince of Ouran only knew.

Notes splay forgotten across the furniture when Kyoya leans his hips into anxious and inquisitive territory, erudite grin forming at the corner of his mouth, as he’s come to understand this aspect of Kaoru just a little better.

Even with no intention of pushing the boundaries—not _too_ far, at least—restraint does not come easy for the second year when his boyfriend is capable of such curious, delicious sounds. And so Kyoya goes with it.

Rolling over, Kyoya leans back against the chaise, pulling Kaoru into his lap along the way. Their breath falls heavy, and is stripped of rhythm as reverent hands find respite at the back of Kaoru’s thighs, and Kyoya cannot help but think that it’s better this way. Neither of them is versed in this brand of play, and exploring this searing, requited affection is each for himself as much as for one another.

Kyoya freezes here, one thumb running circles across taut fabric, and waits for any signal regarding their next move. He doesn’t wait long, as Kaoru descends further onto his lap, and open palms beg to remember the feel of pressing against perfect contours before coming to rest at narrow hips. Heat emanates between them, impossible to ignore, but neither boy dare initiate that next step forward.

It’s only when Kaoru inches forward, the friction stealing both their breath away, that the younger boy realizes the gentility his subconscious saw in Kyoya all along. One hand grips his side while another takes to the small of his back, and just like that Kaoru loses himself in watching Kyoya steers them toward greater places.

Red stains Kyoya’s cheeks, and it deepens the surge of heat in Kaoru’s body just knowing he is the one to have put it there. To feel this good, to learn what intimate chaos is, is a moment he wants to savor, but right now Kaoru just wants _more_.

He hears Kyoya’s sweet whispers, responds in kind despite the blood pounding in his ears. Kaoru’s eyes clench shut as he reaches for what comes next, breath caught in his chest, senses climbing higher, higher until—

“Found you.”

No more than a second passes between Kaoru’s first taste of boy-inflicted ecstasy and practically vaulting out of Kyoya’s lap, all of which he finds frighteningly unbelievable.

Scrambling for a textbook, an alibi of a pen, _anything_ , he glances toward Kyoya, who maintains his place against the chaise, evening his breath from where seconds ago he’d been defiling his best friend’s favorite perch.

“Tamaki…”

“I thought I’d find you here.” There’s a smile in his voice, but not a single trace of smug, teasing discovery. “Hi Kaoru.”

“Hey Boss!”

Where Kaoru is altogether nonplussed, uncertain of what Tamaki may have seen with the opening of the third music room door, Kyoya remains as to-the-point as ever.

 “What do you need, Tamaki?”

“I swung by your place, thinking we could take a look at the ledger together? Maybe rein in the upcoming cosplay in favor of putting more detail into another idea for down the road. Which I haven’t had a chance to tell you about at all, so I came here hoping to find you.”

“Indeed.”

There’s truth to Kyoya’s annoyance, though beneath the surface he’s grateful to see Tamaki carry on in his typical, flippant way. He’s certain to have a few choice questions, later, as the idiot is no fool. But for now, it’s of little consequence. It’s just Tamaki, after all, and Kyoya is glad for it.

“But. You’re studying, I see. On my chaise no less, so I’ll be going.”

“Bye, Tamaki.”

Shutting the door behind him, the king of the host club allows himself to become a passing figure; having met his goal in locating a single person only to stumble upon two and to behave none the wiser. His courtesy is a moot point, however, evidenced in the way Kaoru is unable to settle the slight tremble in his hands whilst throwing Kyoya an apologetic smile.

It will be the last time they allow their affections to escalate within the third music room for quite some time; an unspoken fact that Kyoya accepts by way of the solacing arm he easily wraps across Kaoru’s shoulders. He extends a supportive squeeze and lets go, opting instead to gather their school books with one had while texting Tachibana with the other.

Kaoru holds his school bag open as Kyoya allows for the contents to slide in, and he can’t help but fear he’s ruined the start of something that could have been so very, very good.

The short trek from the chaise to an Ootori-owned town car is mostly silent, with a few strained-but-wanting-for-casual remarks from Kaoru thrown in here or there. Kyoya replies in kind, though his short, soft words carry less an edge than the ones he answers to.

He sees the nerves still lit and fighting in Kaoru’s eyes, and puts away an endeared smile before he’s able to fully pull it out.

“S’okay.” Kaoru mumbles more to himself than anyone else. “It’s just Tono, I know.”

Kyoya feels more commiseration than worry, as he thinks of Kaoru and Hikaru’s self-crafted, carefully controlled world. It’s not unlike the devices any of them have developed over time to protect themselves, only to become fixtures of a club whose own friendships and protections inevitably tore so many of those walls down.

He nods for Kaoru to enter the vehicle, stays close and shuts the door behind them as he turns to stare at moonlit auburn hair.

“I’m not upset, you know.”

“Thanks, but I didn’t think you were.”

“Interesting. I imagine there’s a story there, then.”

Kaoru grants a weak smile before leaning into Kyoya’s proffered embrace. That new, passionate scent that comes with getting worked up is gone, having been replaced by the familiar trace of Kyoya’s skin, and that way he always smells of fresh air.

Feeling the car roll away from the curb, Kaoru nestles further into his boyfriend’s side, relishes the small squeeze of Kyoya’s arm around his waist, and decides he could care less who else knows. It was by his own quiet strength, by his own initiative he and Kyoya now look to each other for whatever affection and solace within each other they can find.

And Kaoru is not about to let his insecurities tamper with that.


End file.
